


Let's Make the Most of the Night

by Gothikalea



Series: misuse of pop songs [1]
Category: Sherlock (TV), Sherlock Holmes & Related Fandoms
Genre: Angst, M/M, Post Reichenbach, Songfic, idk how to write, ke$ha - Freeform
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-04-10
Updated: 2013-04-10
Packaged: 2017-12-08 01:32:58
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,590
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/755435
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Gothikalea/pseuds/Gothikalea
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Sherlock closes his eyes for a moment, not on purpose though, because the Great Detective doesn't ever (?????) of his own volition anymore, even if he has to, and when he reopens them, he's got six fingers on one hand.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Let's Make the Most of the Night

**Author's Note:**

> A/N: is it bad that i think ke$has songs are like really fic-inspiring because they are? i listened to this song on loop while i was writing this  
> if you dont understand the 6 finger thing its okay its a reality check thing only so its ok if u dont get it  
> IF YOUDO THEN I AM WOW can you teach me the right technique please? ive never been able tod o it properly  
> also hello i haven't written anything for about 2 years so please dont judg  
> THIS IS a humorous fic KINDA LOL if you can get through all of my crappy writing u might laugh at the end  
> I LAUGHED!!~`1 :) if you dont laugh im sorry im not very good at humor :((

Sherlock closes his eyes for a moment, not on purpose though, because the Great Detective doesn't ever (?????) of his own volition anymore, even if he has to, and when he reopens them, he's got six fingers on one hand.

The night is fizzy, the stars rising like the bubbles in a soft drink, except they're highlighted white and the darkness in the background is so dark like a black hole it hurts to stare at it so Sherlock doesn't, even though he wants to deduce black holes. He can hear loud vibrations in the air way before he touches the loud sounds and steps up onto the sidewalk from the cobblestone pavement of the road. He would deduce the music too, but it's already obvious that it's from a club considering there's a huge neon flashing CLUB FANTASIA sign in front of the establishment. He becomes aware that he's supposed to be cold because it's _supposed_ to be a chilly night - and so he suddenly feels cold, and the cold is irking but not dehabilitating, just the way he hates it most because it is a dull pain in the back of his mind, not interesting at all, and he hates dull things. He thinks about going into CLUB FANTASIA because it would make the cold go away and he also thinks about not going into CLUB FANTASIA because it's been years since he was a teenager and rutted against people to the sound of music and took people home for one night stands and stuck needles uncermoniously into his arm. But eventually Sherlock is led to the source of the tangible sound because the rest of the buildings are blurry and melting into the floor with weird colours and they remind him that he is meant to be deducing something important and this hurts Sherlock's heart and hes had ENough of this stupid pain, thankyou very much.  
When he steps inside, the warmth is a relief and the lights are pulsing like the pressure in a bottle that's been shaken against its cap, pushing against Sherlock until he's breathless and tears are in his eyes. The flashing lights erase the truth from sinners, stripping people of their sensibilities, and nobody cares where Sherlock came from or where he's been or who he is and it strikes him that the containment of this overwhelming feeling is all that the British Government could hope for because if it got out then everyone would be dancing and if everyone was dancing then there would be no wars and if there were no wars then Mycroft would be out of a job. Swaying bodies to the throbbing beat, purifying nonstopping smell of sweat and chemicals linger in the air and Sherlock can smell drugs BUT DRUGS ARE NOT WHY HE IS HERE. He needs to stop himself from getting distracted.

The name of the club, FANTASIA, stands out in his mind and clenches at his heart because he knows he's foRGETting something and he really should be deducing what it is because it's driving him crazy, positively insane but he doesn't want to think anymore because now thinking hurts too.

So he steps onto the dance floor and erases himself. The detective is gone, Sherlock is gone, he stops thinking and deducing and everything except moving his body to the beat, his body flush with the heat and feel and smell of other persons and his identity replaced with that of a fish in a tight pack of tuna, with music being the essentiality to life that water is. He closes his eyes and thrusts his hips to the side like everyone else is doing, raising his arms and lets his body go and he moves and breathes in tune with the electronical pulses in the air. Sweat flows down his face as he perspires and he lets out a long sigh of satisfaction because this, this feeling of endorphins, the rush of it, it's ecstasy, and the only thing in the world that could make it better would be that man, he thinks, then opens his eyes, wishing to materialize this wonderful feeling and share it with that man, the only one he's ever cared so strongly about, and then he sees a flash of blonde hair, and he's what  
what what is that is tHAT blonde hair, John is blonde,IS THAT JOHN ? WORLD STOp STOP PLEASE.  
And so the music STOPS and the world PAUSES, because Sherlock never says please and he did this time. He makes out the blurry shape of some woman next to John, and his forehead crinkles in a frown.

Oh. What a shame. That he came here with someone.

Sherlock runs up to John, pushing past the grey people in the way, and they hit the floor, lifeless, not that it matters, they are all anonymous anyway aren't they?, and he's pushing past his fears, pushing past that lingering doubt at the back of his mind, pushing past Sarah -- was that Sarah, Sherlock wasn't even sure nor did he really care she's just some woman -- and she scoffs, but disappears, because Sherlock doesn't want her there he wants John to himself (HE'S here he's MINE) and then Sherlock stares into John's blue eyes except they're not blue, John's eyes are mirrors, which Sherlock knows should be an issue but for some reason isn't because it's been too Long sInce and he's too happy, excitEd and feelS too much even though this is all (????).

He wraps his arms around the smaller man's frame desperately, pulling him to himself like John's his lifeline. (he is.) And just like that, the great sociopath realizes he's not a sociopath at all, not if this is how John makes him feel, this wonderful feeling of wholeness and belonging, not that he's thinking about that, because he's too busy shaking like an addict and sticking his nose to John's collarbone, inhaling his scent, feeling his own heart thrum wildly, aching from fondness, doesn't the heart grow fonder with absence and there's been way too much absence, and he feels his heart consonate with John's in tune to the drumbeat in the background.  
"John --" he is about to make excuses, but John doesn't let him.

John presses a finger to Sherlock's plebian lips. "Shh. You needn't say anything." Sherlock cries out at the sound of John's soothing beautiful wonderful voice and John chuckles in amusement and lifts his arm and wraps it around Sherlock's back and pulls him closer so that he's flush against Sherlock's body, and the taller man blushes as the heat rushes south.  
"I'm nowhere near as brilliant as you are, but," - he cups the other man's groin and winks - " _this _makes it pretty obvious."  
Sherlock growls and pushes his hips to John's, which causes more friction and John just gives Sherlock a very warm smile and takes his hand as he turns around and begins dancing again. The music comes back, a loud angry clash against the former white stillness of canvas, but that's okay, Sherlock likes exotic art.__

__

__John licks Sherlock's ear and the other man shivers so he murmurs, "Never took _you_ to be the type of man who'd be at this type of scene, but seeing as you're already here - let's make the most of the night."_ _

__Sherlock silently pulls him closer, so content with his life, thinking he wouldn't mind dying right now, even though he's in his thirties and that's a bit too young to be thinking of dying don't you think?, and John smiles that beautiful smile and wraps his beautiful hands into Sherlock's plebian hair, tangling the plebian curls, and pulls him in closer for a kiss and sherlock is SO READY to have his plebian boring unworthy lips on John's beautiful soft looking ones_ _

__

__\--- And Sherlock wakes up, inhaling sharply. Everything is blurry and white and quiet but then he hears a song faintly in the background and it buzzes faintly, pleasantly, until it gets louder and louder until Sherlock hears SCREAMING and is aware that it is himself and that is how Sherlock is brought back to reality._ _

__"You really need to get more _natural_ sleep," no one in particular says. "The lack of it's not helping your sanity any."_ _

__Sherlock scowls, mashing his fist against the cold plastic of the radio, knocking it to the floor with a loud thud, and then punches the mirror in the room and his hand is bleeding and it hurts, but NOTHING HURTS MORE THAN the song_ _

___" - like we're gonna die young,"_ Ke$ha sings, ending her song and Sherlock's aware that he's ready to end his life, for REAL this time, and  
he falls to the floor, sobbing, heaving air, but it feels sick going through his body because the air doesn't smell like John and it doesn't taste like John and it doesn't have JOHN THIS ISN'T what he wANTEd and he forces it out of his lungs, throws it back up like air molecules are glitter because he's heard somewhere that you're not supposed to consume glitter mycroft would be disappointed to have to take him to the hospital for something so fucking stupid like eating glitter  
and then he's laughing LAUGHING OUT LOUD and crying at the same time because this he IS so fucking stupid is all so fucking funny  
its been 2 years john i need you im going fucking insane 

___\----_  
????? SLEEP  
???? LIES  
\---- 

__SO DID U LAUGH  
i laughed i thought the ending was funny lol_ _


End file.
